


Seeing You Seeing Me

by MoonGalleon22



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Autistic Cole, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-26
Updated: 2015-07-26
Packaged: 2018-04-11 08:41:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4428818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MoonGalleon22/pseuds/MoonGalleon22
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"She thought for a moment that he moved like she did, and something new rose in her, like seeing herself in a mirror and being happy with the face that was there."</p><p>An Inquisition Soldier - no one too important in the grand scheme of things - feels that, for the first time in her life, she may have met someone who is like her, and perhaps being like her isn't such a bad thing after all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Seeing You Seeing Me

She had only just stumbled into line, eyes blinking to adjust to the snow-reflected sun, when she noticed the boy staring at her from across the square.

She was nothing, really, in regards to the Inquisition being run – a villager, one with no fighting experience or training, yet a volunteer, someone who wanted to learn and use that knowledge to protect what she cared for. Her and every other Inquisition soldier (soldier, she was a _soldier_ now), she supposed. Not all of them were beginners, not all of them were there purely out of the goodness of their hearts, but the cause was common enough, and even if she found no friendship, she might find…something. Something she’d been missing.

She noticed the boy staring at her from under the wide brim of a hat (a helmet? It had metal plating on it), but Commander Cullen had begun his speech to the new recruits, so she changed focus and pretended she couldn’t feel his gaze bore into her skin; after a few minutes, her eyes flickered over, and he was gone, and hey, what was she even looking at anyway?

She tried to think, but couldn’t for the life of her remember.

The Commander’s voice grew louder in her ears, and she realised too late that he had been issuing her, her in particular, orders to focus. The others laughed, and maybe he chastised them for that too, but if he did, she didn’t hear it beneath the heat building in her ears.

She sighed in defeat when she realised the laughter would follow her everywhere she went; not simply for how it hurt, but for how it was so, so expected by now.

* * *

She was in the process of being backed into a corner by a man who was swinging his sword much more expertly than herself when she noticed a man not wearing armour, walking between fighting pairs with light feet and broad shoulders.

I must have seen him somewhere before, she thought, because his appearance seemed too distinctive to ignore or forget – a wide brimmed hat (a helmet? It had metal plating on it), clothes inexpertly stitched together, tall and awkwardly broad. A scarecrow that moved and breathed, but no one else seemed to be aware that he moved among them, searchingly.

The man fussed with his hands when he walked, fingers rubbing and pressing and even waving lightly in front of him, as if to filter the world into easy-to-digest pieces between pale fingers. She thought for a moment that he moved like she did, and something new rose in her, like seeing herself in a mirror and being happy with the face that was there.

The sword clashed against her shield again, forcing her arm down from momentum and her mind back to attention. “Focus, girl! Can’t fight demons when you can’t even hit me!” her sparring partner yelled, his grin mocking rather than concerned. She threw out her sword arm again, the blows merely glancing off his shield, too slow, too clumsy, and he was upon her again, his sword coming down with such a swift beat that she had no choice but to step back, step down, and even as she crouched away from him he kept going.

 _This man wants to hurt me_ , she thought, hiding under the shield. _This man would see me killed by demons and he would laugh. They all would, really, even the Commander, why did I ever think this was a good idea…?_

Almost as if the thought summoned him, the Commander was there, pulling the man away by the shoulder. “That is enough!” he shouted, his eyes burning, and she looked up at him from behind her shield, tearful in a way she couldn’t explain.

The other soldier got a right bollocking for what he did, but that didn’t change how she had to hear him justify himself over and over. Her incompetence was the primary excuse, followed by her not paying attention or taking things seriously, and the Commander’s rebuttal was swift and to the point: “Remember we are training, practicing basic technique – you are not intending to harm the person you’re sparring with. Whatever you think of her skill...” he said, ignoring it when the other soldier chimed in with “or lack thereof”, “It should have no effect on your conduct. We must unite together if we’re to fight the breach, and I will have no tolerance for things like this.”

The soldier walked off, grumbling to himself, and the Commander asked to see her once practice was over. The back of her mind burnt, and a full-body chill ran through her, tears pricking at her eyes as she nodded, and picked her sword up from the ground.

She was rubbing the tears out of her eyes when the man from before with the hat-helmet walked up to her, close enough for her to see his face his time; eyes blue like hers, but more tired, skin drawn and pale, and when he opened his mouth to speak, she couldn’t help but blurt out “You look tired, are you alright?”

He paused, eyebrows furrowing. “I don’t sleep,” he said, softer than she would ever have been able to manage, “but that’s not something you need to worry about.” He shifted on his feet for a moment, before a deep sigh left him. “But you’re the type to worry about strangers, and you’re just confused now, and this isn’t right. It’s all right, you’ll forget me in a minute.”

She was about to ask what he was on about, but the man from before with the hat-helmet walked up to her, close enough for her to see his face this time; before she could even take in what he looked like (eyes blue like hers, but more tired, skin drawn and pale), he was speaking, his voice softer than she would ever have been able to manage.

“The Commander is wrong to doubt you, and the others are wrong to laugh. They are wrong because you’re trying harder than they realise, like when you spent that afternoon learning how to tie your shoelaces just so you could get it right. You don’t deserve this; please, believe that. I won’t bother you at practice anymore, but you will see me again if you need me.”

She thought the words over for a moment, feeling them sink in; felt the truth of them, no matter how hard it was to believe, felt his insistence that she try anyway. She sniffled, smiled, was opening her mouth to thank him when she blinked and found no one there.

Come to think of it, why should anyone be there? She’d been staring into space again, she just knew it, and she sighed and went to the Commander to see what he had to say.

She knew, somehow, what she would have to say to him first.

* * *

Her swordsmanship improved by inches, but it was enough for her – that she kept at it had endeared her to some, the Commander especially, but her clumsiness still threw her off, her lack of reflexes and slowness still a detriment. The laughter had never really stopped, but she was brushing that off more and more.

What really got her was the loneliness.

She sat alone, most days; she’d left all her friends and family back home at Honneleath, and the other soldiers didn’t seem too enthused about discussing poetry or folk tales with her, either. It wasn’t just that people didn’t make the effort to include her – it was rather that her efforts to be included meant that they actively shunned her. It hollowed her out inside, the loneliness, worse here because it was supposed to be better.

She was supposed to be better. Her leg bounces when she sits and she still felt confusion wash through her over the smallest instructions, and her feelings were Too Much, sometimes, in ways that no one else seemed to understand, and she wanted to be better.

Being like this was bad and she wanted to be better. The thought was always tumbling through her mind, bringing sadness with it on each rotation, spiralling down. And every time, she would notice a boy, tall and awkwardly broad, and his hands would fidget and his feet would kick; every time, something new rose in her, like looking in a mirror and liking the face that was in there, except it slowly stopped feeling new. She had no idea why – she never saw anyone who moved like she did, and whenever she did, she would be mistaken.

She didn’t see anything, and nothing saw her.

* * *

Her eyes had been downcast, focus on the mead in her hand, when his hand brushed her shoulder.

Her corner of the tavern had been quiet, and no one had joined her. Victory was on everyone’s tongues tonight, so loud as to be deafening, and her desire to join in had been broken by the reluctance of everyone else to let her. No one saw her in the corner, and she had been contemplating leaving early and leaving behind the feeling of being invisible.

“I see you,” he said, hand hovering near her shoulder, and she leapt out of her own skin at the sound.

The boy, suddenly seated beside her, recoiled with the same surprise, his eyes – blue like hers, but more tired – widening from underneath the wide brim of his hat (a helmet? It had metal plating on it). She was two seconds from shouting at him, from shrieking that he had no right to be scaring her like that, but no one was there and she fought to catch her breath, eyes darting around. What was she doing, being scared over nothing?

Her breath had slowed, as had her heart, when someone rapped their knuckles on the table in front of her. She glanced up at the boy who stood before her, and she caught his eyes – blue like hers, but softer – for a mere moment before he slowly moved to sit beside her at the otherwise-empty table.

He didn’t even introduce himself before speaking, his eyes now hidden beneath the wide brim of his hat (a helmet? It had…what did it matter what it had on it? It was clearly a hat). “I see you,” he said, a hint of a smile in his voice, softer than she would ever have been able to manage. “I see you and I let you see me, because you see yourself in me and that makes you happy. The way you move isn’t a bad secret; it is beautiful, hands like the wings of the robins that used to come to your garden. You have never seen anyone else move like you do, and it makes you think I’m like you, and I’m glad to be seen, if it’s by you. You won’t forget after this.”

She had no idea why – she didn’t know this boy, had no idea what he was talking about – but the tears welled up in her eyes anyway. This was more than liking her reflection, it was clearing the dark shadows that hung heavy on her shoulders.

She turned away from him, couldn’t bear to risk holding eye contact with him, and she blinked tears into her mug without thinking.

A hand, pale and drawn, held out a napkin for her to take, and she glanced up into his eyes – blue like hers, but softer.

She wasn’t sure she’d seen him clearly before, but she thought perhaps he was like her, and that was okay.

**Author's Note:**

> It's self-indulgent, hasn't been proofread by anyone and perhaps isn't even that good, but I had it saved into my files and knew it needed finishing so here it is.
> 
> I headcanon Cole as being autistic, and it makes me happy to see someone who might be a little bit like me in the media, so I wanted to write about that. That's literally it. There's no deeper meaning to it, I just wanted to see autistic people becoming friends over their shared neurodivergence and a reminder that we're not alone out there.
> 
> I also felt like playing around with the "forget!" thing, so there's lots of repetition - she keeps meeting him for the first time, after all, and getting new first impressions. idk, I thought it'd be interesting.


End file.
